


Budgeting Love

by lha



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Multi, Post-Season/Series 09, Post-Series, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lha/pseuds/lha
Summary: Set after the end of Season 9.James has nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing. If only the guilt wasn't consuming him anyway.
Relationships: James Hathaway & Laura Hobson, James Hathaway & Lizzie Maddox, James Hathaway & Robert Lewis, James Hathaway/Laura Hobson/Robert Lewis, Laura Hobson/Robert Lewis
Comments: 20
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Laurence Fox is still a total twat, and I am still refusing to give up James Hathaway.

Lizzie wasn’t sure what she noticed first. Maybe it wasn’t one thing, but more of a cumulative build up over time. Once she’d started noticing though, it was impossible to stop. He looked worn, but that wasn’t anything new for her boss and with Laura and Robbie in New Zealand she was down two allies in the sisyphean (a term she had definitely never used pre-Hathaway) task of trying to get him to look after himself.

It was little things mosty; he started drinking soda and lime at the pub. He’d buy the first round, he’d stay long enough for her to buy sometimes, but he always declined the offer of a pint and they hadn’t eaten together in months. He’d started bringing in food from home, grumbling about the evils of the various dodgy sandwiches that he usually ate under protest when someone thrust it under his nose. She wondered if he’d started putting some weight on and was concerned about the fit of his really very nice suits. 

He was a strange blend of puritan and aesthete (she must have heard Lewis use that one), but he always seemed to take pleasure in looking smart. Until the case took over at least. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t think of the last time she’d seen him in a new tie or a shirt that she didn’t recognise though. Those suits, which were the talk of the nick and tailored to make the most of what she and Laura both agreed was an excellent frame, had lost some of their polish too. Or maybe, it was the frame beneath them that had changed enough that they no longer fit like the proverbial glove.

The exchange of the Jag for a much more modest four door Fiesta, he brushed off as his small attempt to save the planet. Given that one of the many things she’d teased him about his last car was how often it needed filled up, she had accepted the reasoning and instead pointed out that he was still smoking like a chimney. She bought him a reusable coffee cup and tub of swanky instant coffee for his birthday, but was more than slightly surprised that he actually started using it.

All of this didn’t really come together into anything though, until Lizzie offered to pick him up on her way to a scene one morning. They’d had a proper week of it and while she was knackered, she was concerned that her boss wasn’t actually safe to be behind the wheel. She’d managed five hours of sleep having crashed not long after getting home at gone-ten, but she’d left Hathaway still at the office.

“Sorry Sir,” was the first thing she said when he answered the phone.

“Wha…?”

“It looks like our prime suspect has just been found dead.” He breathed heavily.

“Where?” 

“It’s an address in Jericho,” she said, hunting for a clean top and trying to remember where’ she’d abandoned her boots. “Sir?” she asked, when he said nothing more. 

“Yeah… I’m awake…” He did not sound convincing.

“I’ll come and pick you up. Are you at home?” she asked, pulling on her coat and grabbing her keys.

“No. I mean...yes. But I’ve moved.” Lizzie stopped, her hand on her front door. 

“What?” she asked, blindsided. “When?” She couldn’t remember when she’d last been in his place, but it now felt like an unusually long time ago. “Never mind,” she said, realising that this wasn’t the moment to start an interrogation. “Text me the address.”

The address itself didn’t throw her. It wasn’t a particularly fashionable area but it was closer to the station than his old flat had been. His old flat which had felt ridiculously big and strangely empty but also somehow cluttered at the same time. It had suited him though, and he’d always seemed at home there. The block of flats she pulled up outside was… less nice. Hathaway was perched on a slightly dilapidated wall smoking and clutching the fuchsia pink thermos cup she’d given him for his birthday. 

There was more going on here she realised, more weighing on his shoulders than this case, more wrong than a week of late nights. All the other things, those little things, started coalescing into something shadowy and ominous. More than ever, she was incredibly glad that it was only a few weeks before Robbie and Laura were due back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is still a work in progress but I'm a few chapters ahead so hopefully I'll be able to post regularly!  
> Hope you liked this first chapter and thanks for reading,  
> LHA x  
> @LHA_again


	2. Chapter 2

Six months and three days. Not that James had been counting. It was six months and three days since he’d dropped them off to go on their big adventure and it felt like a lifetime ago. He’d known he’d miss them but he wasn’t sure he’d realised just how much until he’d been sitting on his own in his flat having dropped them off. And that was before… well, after everything that had transpired in the interim. For all that he couldn’t wait to see them, the gnawing ache of guilt creeped up again as he carefully amended his sign so that it now read - _**Lewis & Hobson**_

He was managing. He’d made sensible if difficult decisions. Nothing that he’d done should leave him guilty but that logic only seemed to work intermittently. Lizzie clearly knew something was wrong and that meant that even if Robbie and Laura didn’t spot that there was something going on, then he was pretty sure that his sergeant would point them in the right direction. But that was ok. There was nothing to be ashamed of in any of what he’d done. It would be fine.

“You smell wrong,” Robbie said, clasping James tight in the arrivals hall.

“Sorry?” he said, taken aback by the decidedly odd greeting. 

“You smell wrong,” he reiterated, holding him at arms length and looking at him critically. “And you look awful.”

“Robbie,” Laura chided, elbowing him out of the way so that she could hug him too. “James has just come all the way to Heathrow to pick us up in what intellectually I know must be the middle of the night.” James returned her embrace, bending down to closing his eyes just to enjoy the moment. 

“Well you do, lad,” Robbie protested. “Did our Lizzie not feed you while we were away?” 

“You’ve changed your brand of cigarettes,” Laura said, ignoring Robbie. James had changed brand and while several months on he still couldn’t say he was used to them, the four pound a pack price difference made him feel better about the fact that he hadn’t been able to quit the luxury altogether. His aftershave had run out last month too which he suspected might have been what Robbie noticed. 

“Despite six months of dossing around, your olfactory skills are undiminished Doctor Hobson.” She laughed and James felt the corner of his mouth twitch up.

“Well let’s hope I can still remember how to hold a scalpel by next week, too.”

They picked up the luggage after only a moderately unreasonable wait and James pushed the trolley back out towards the carpark. The pair of them were regaling him on their layover in Hong Kong, about how difficult it was for Robbie to be understood by people who spoke the english language better than he did.

“Not better like,” Robbie said. “Just more properly.” James raised an eyebrow. “Oh give me a break, I’ve been up for thirty-six hours straight.”

“Apart from the nine you were asleep and snoring on my shoulder,” Laura said, slapping his chest.

“We’re just here,” James said as they walked past the car.

“What happened to the Jag?” Robbie asked with a frown.

“I grew out of my mid-life crisis,” he said, opening the boot and starting to pack it. 

The journey back to Oxford was full of chatter and grumbling, laughter and gentle snores and James basked in all of it. By the time they pulled into the driveway the sun had peaked above the horizon and as Laura unlocked the front door he and Robbie retrieved the cases.

“Don’t think we won’t be having a conversation about the fact that you’ve got more bags underneath your eyes than there are in this boot,” Robbie said quietly. “But it’s so good to see you, James. We’ve missed you something fierce.” His heavy hand on James’ shoulder was so familiar that he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten how it felt.

“I’ve missed you too,” he admitted quietly, not looking up.

“JAMES HATHAWAY!” Laura’s voice called from inside the house, breaking the quiet moment. “Get in here, right now.” 

“Oh dear,” Robbie said in a commiserating tone, squeezing his shoulder gently, automatically, before he let go. 

“You,” Laura said, pulling him down for a firm kiss on the cheek. “Are too much.”

“What’s all this fuss over?” Robbie asked, following him in.

“The flowers, and the fact the entire house is spotless and he’s done a food shop…” He’d had to squeeze some other things this month to cover the cost but it was well worth it to see her bright eye’d joy and Robbie’s warm smile.

“It’s just some basics. But, welcome home,” he said, tilting his head away. “I should let you get settled.”

“Nonsense,” Laura said perfunctorily. “Stay for breakfast.”

“Oh please tell me…” Robbie said opening the fridge. “James lad.” 

“You might have mentioned the lack of a proper fry-up once or twice in your emails,” James said, sharing a smirk with Laura. “I’m working, I should…”

“It’s early yet, stay for a proper breakfast,” Robbie said.

“Just let me have a quick shower and get out of these clothes,” Laura said. 

“Well if you insist,” James agreed. 

At least if he’d already paid for the food, he didn’t need to feel guilty about accepting their hospitality. He’d become pretty good about avoiding letting people buy him things, to ‘treat’ him, because the social convention meant he then needed to return the favour. He’d _want_ to return the favour. For all Robbie’s old fashioned ways, and for all he’d teased James, he’d never actually expected his sergeant to always pick up the tab and he wasn’t about to let Lizzie do that now. They still went to the pub, but he stuck with soft even when she was buying and that was fine. He’d budgeted for that and budgeting was key.


	3. Chapter 3

Robbie collapsed into bed next to Laura with a sigh.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” she said, and he could hear her gentle smile.

“It is a canny mattress,” he replied, rolling over onto his side so that he could look at her.  


“I meant, being home.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “That’s good too. I’m glad we went though.”

“Me too,” Laura said. “Even if James seems to have aged a decade while we were gone.”

“I said he looked awful.”

“And we both know that the best way to get nothing out of him is to go on the attack,” she chided gently. “At least he warmed up with some food in him.”

“I always forget how much he can put away at the end of a case when he suddenly remembers food exists.”

“Mmmm,” she said, snuggling into his shoulder. 

“I’ll take him out for a pint later this week. Maybe he’s just been pining.”

“I think he has a bit,” she said. “But there’s more to it than that. Maybe it’s his dad…”

“He told us in his last mail that he was doing well, or as well as could be expected.”

“Make him come back for food, after the pint.”

“Feeder,” Robbie teased, but he knew he would.

It was a good plan, but it would have been a better one if it wasn’t for the fact that over the next three days James went completely underground. By day four, Robbie was unsettled enough that he was going to go to the station and drag the lad out by the collar.

“He took a spill in the river and both his phones died.”

“What?” he said, looking up from the flower bed that he was currently channeling his rage into.

“James. His phones drowned. Personal and work.”

“Oh.”

“So, he’s not avoiding us.” Something in his chest uncoiled;

“How did you find out?”

“I called Lizzie,” she said, handing him one of the mugs she was holding. “They’re off today and I’ve invited her round for dinner on Saturday.”

“That’ll be nice.” 

“It will. She also confirmed that she’s worried something’s wrong with James too. He’s moved,” she said, pulling out a slip of paper. He read it and looked up at her in askance. “Go pick him up, take him for a pint and then bring our boy home for dinner.”

Robbie had certainly been to worse bits of Oxford but James’ previous flat, in fact all of his previous flats had been in more well heeled bits of town. The front door opened without the buzzer so he climbed the stairs to the top floor and knocked on the door.

“‘Lo stranger,” he said to the jeans, hoodie and glasses clad James who opened the door.

“Robbie?” he asked, blinking owlishly in surprise. “How… Lizzie?” 

“Laura called her. We were worried you were ignoring us.”

“My phones…”

“Aye, I heard. Well come on then, pint at The Trout.”

“I… I can’t Robbie, I’ve got…” he gestured behind himself.

“I’m not taking no for an answer, lad”

“Well then, you might as well come in when I put my shoes on.”

The flat was pokey; there wasn’t really another word for it. The sofa felt too big, there was a stack of boxes Robbie was pretty sure must contain books and in the corner, what Val would have called a ‘kitchenette’ along one wall. James had vanished into the bedroom and he was half surprised that he came back out without his armour. 

“Are you actually setting foot outside in your glasses?”

“I’m trying to make my contact subscription last.” The admission felt like a surrender, like the first crack in a damn and Robbie was pretty sure they’d both want a drink in them before that damn collapsed.

“Go grab a table out the back,” he instructed when they pulled into the carpark of their favourite pub. James hadn’t spoken a word since they’d left his flat and Robbie had let him have the silence.

When he headed out into the beer garden he spotted James slouched at their usual picnic bench smoking furiously.

“Here,” he said, pushing one of the pints towards him. “So… want to tell me what this is all about?”

There was no sardonic response, no witty comeback or deflection. 

“Nell,” James began softly after a minute. “She gets room and board included in her position but it means she doesn’t… her salary is pretty small. Dad… there was always tied accommodation when he was working. He never bought anywhere and when… I think at the start of the dementia his spending was… erratic”

“And that place he’s in can’t be cheap,” Robbie said, the light suddenly dawning.

“The council pays a bit. And he’s settled there,” James said, still playing with the glass. “They’re good with him.”

“James lad,” Robbie sighed. 

“It’s fine, really,” he replied. “I wasn’t a good son, a good brother. I walked away and didn’t look back for more than a decade. Nell’s done her time and I can afford it.”

“Can you?” 

“Just about,” he admitted, taking a deep drink. “It’s fine, really. I just need to manage the rest of my expenditure.”

“So the flat, and the car and…”

“It’s fine. And it’s not forever. Maybe a while, but not forever.”

“James this isn’t…” he tried to counter.

“I’m not being reckless. I’m doing the exact opposite of that. I know that I can’t know how long he’ll live, so I’m not going into debt, I’m just budgeting.”

“James lad,” Robbie said, reaching out to still the hand that was plucking nervously at a sleeve. “Oh you canny lad,” he said. “You had the keys to ours and the cars. You could have…”

“I don’t need charity. I can make it work.”

“You don’t need to do this on your own though,” Robbie said, gripping the hand he was now holding. 

“I didn’t know how…” the younger man said in a rush. “I’m doing the right thing. It shouldn’t feel like this. There should be some… some sort of comfort in quietly doing the right thing.” 

“The virtue of noble sacrifice,” Robbie muttered.

“A high ideal perhaps.”

“I take it there’s not much give in this budget of yours.”

“Not much,” James drained the last of his pint. “And I burned through most of my savings when I took a year off and didn’t go to Camino de Santeago.”

“So what about unexpected costs?”

“Like replacing the personal phone I wasn’t supposed to have with me while on an active investigation?”

“Just like that,” Robbie said. They all did it, no one left their own phone at home or in their desk drawer but while James’ police issue device would be replaced having been damaged in the line of duty, there was no way they’d replace his own.

“I can do without for a bit,” James said. “And… I was doing some proofreading when you arrived. A couple of weeks and I’ll have enough for a new one. I really do have a plan. I’m doing the right thing.” Robbie suddenly felt like he was about to cry. 

“Finish that up,” he said gruffly, standing and dropping a kiss on the top of the younger man’s head. “I’m on a promise to bring you home for tea.”


	4. Chapter 4

Laura pottered around the kitchen and did her best to stay occupied. The tagine was in the oven and she was just finishing wiping down the kitchen surfaces when she heard the car pull up outside. The nervousness she’d managed to keep a lid on all afternoon suddenly surged up and into a lump in her throat. Robbie would have gotten to the bottom of whatever was wrong, there was no one better at coaxing things out of James and once they knew what it was that was going on, well… they’d handle it. Together. 

They had spoken of James often while they’d been away, they’d emailed him regularly and been openly surprised when he’d responded as much as fifty percent of the time. Then when they’d been sitting at breakfast the other morning, Laura had suddenly found herself just watching the pair of them as the sun had spilled through the french doors and known that this was somehow right. 

She loved Robbie, and she was confident that he loved her too but he wasn’t... They weren’t… They’d missed James and even if they hadn’t ever had an actual conversation about it, they both knew just how much. Laura wasn’t at all sure what that meant, maybe it didn’t mean anything more than the pair of them loving and cherishing James as much as they’d let him, but even that sometimes felt too much and not enough all at once.

By the time that Robbie led James through into the kitchen she was pouring a glass of wine.

“Hello there,” she said, looking up and trying to read what had gone on between them. Robbie caught and held her eye, nodding minutely. “Beer?”

“Please love,” Robbie said, coming close enough to press a kiss against her cheek and then retrieve the bottle opener while she pulled out a couple of bottles.

“Shall we sit outside until the food’s ready?” she suggested. “James would you grab…” He was already on the case, pulling blankets from the chest in the living room. 

They settled around the table on the decking, and James lit up almost instantly.

“Do you want me to tell her lad?” Robbie said after a minute, reaching out to still the twitching fingers on his cigarette free hand.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to James,” Laura said. “As long as you’ve spoken to Robbie,” she paused. “And you’re going to be ok.” 

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” James said quietly. “It’s nothing you should have been… You don’t need to worry.”

“I care about you James,” she said, reaching forward to clasp both of their hands.

“I’ve just…” James said, clearing his throat. “With Dad’s care home fees, I’m having to budget a bit more carefully. It’s fine. Really.”

“I did some digging, it’s a good facility,” she said. “But the fees must be pretty steep.” 

“It’s… They’re good with him. He’s settled there.” But it all came at a price. The flat, the car, that haunted look… a weight settled in Laura’s stomach. As though he could read her thoughts he continued;

“It’s fine, I’ve just had to cut down on my other expenditure.”

“Ok,” she said, taking a mouthful of the crisp sauvignon blanc and gathering her thoughts.

“Why didn’t you just stay here,” Robbie said. “You could’ve just... Even if it was only for a few months while we were gone, so you could build up some savings.” 

“I couldn’t have taken advantage like that. I can’t… I don’t need charity.”

“You might not,” Laura began. “But there’s a difference between helping a friend and charity. Heaven knows you’ve helped us often enough.”

“Not like…”

“Look James,” Robbie said, shifting awkwardly. “Between what Morse left me and Val’s insurance, I’ve been able to see the bairns right and I still have more money than I know what to do with.”

“Which is why I deal with the finances,” Laura cut in with an eye roll. “How about you go put the rice on Robbie? While James and I talk."

"I'm not taking his money," James said in a rush when the doors closed behind Robbie. He finished his cigarette and picked up the box only to put it down again. Laura wondered how carefully he had to consider each one.

"If he’d thought you would take it, he'd write you a cheque in a minute. But I suspect that's not really what he meant. James, look at me,” she said, waiting until he did. “You’re making sure your father gets the best care, and you’ve taken steps to avoid going into debt to do so. You’ve made rational decisions in difficult circumstances and you’re fine.

“Robbie has a good idea of what that sort of ‘fine’ feels like though, and he wants more than that for you. We both do.” 

Robbie didn’t talk about it often, but Laura knew that it hadn’t always been easy for them; a sergeant’s hours and pay both came with their own challenges when you had a young family. Laura suspected that’s where his lingering discomfort with money now came from; he and Val had never really had a chance to enjoy what Morse had left him, and heaven knew that the life insurance had done little to blunt Val’s loss. Money doesn’t make you happy, Robbie would say, but it wasn’t as simple as that. Just like fine was rarely really fine.

They sat quietly for a minute, the sound of James’ cigarette packet being tapped against the wooden table and the breeze rustling the trees at the bottom of the garden the only things to break the hush of early evening. Picking her glass up, Laura turned in her seat and tucking her legs up under the blanket, she watched James while she spoke;

“Why did you come and pick us up from the airport?” He frowned. “You were working the next day and really should have been sleeping. We could have ordered a taxi or taken the train easily enough.”

“I wanted…”

“You wanted to welcome us home?” she asked pointedly. “To make the journey back easier, more pleasant?” 

“Yes.”

“Even if we’d have been _fine,_ on the train?”

“It’s not the same.” 

“Isn’t it? James, you wanted to make something not that challenging easier for us and you put yourself out to do it.”

“I wasn’t put out,” he said moodily. 

“And neither would we be if there was another body to share the cooking and the cleaning with,” Laura said lightly. “You helped Robbie build this decking. You drove to the other side of the city to buy me chocolate biscuits that I couldn’t find anywhere. Even when there was so much else going on in your life, you looked after our home while we were away.”

“It’s not the same.”

“No, these are small everyday things that you do to make our lives better. Why can’t you possibly imagine that we would want to make your life better than ‘fine’?” she asked calmly.

“It’s not the same.” He barely breathed it this time.

“We love you James, we want you to be more than _fine_. We want you to be happy and healthy.” She let him sit with that for a minute before she continued;

“Not many of our outgoings would change if you moved in. You don’t need to share the details of your finances but if you contributed say a hundred a month to the household account to cover the increase in the food bill and anything else, that should give you a bit more breathing room. Let you build up your savings again.”

“A hundred and fifty. At least.”

“A hundred and fifty then,” she agreed lightly. “But only on the promise that you allow yourself a few less-essential necessaries; contact lenses, rowing fees, the odd book.” None of which she was pretty sure he’d been budgeting for.

“I thought you liked the glasses?” he asked with a quirk of an eyebrow. It was the closest thing to a joke he’d cracked since he’d arrived, the clear jibe at her teasing him the last time he ended up in hospital.

“I do,” she said with a sly smile. “But I don’t want everyone else to see how well they suit you.”

When Robbie appeared back out on the deck, Laura and James were both watching the sun disappear in comfortable silence.

“So when are you moving in?” he asked, placing fresh bottles of beer on the table.

“Ignore him,” Laura said, holding out her wine glass for Robbie to refill. “It’s your choice James, but we’d love to have you for as short or as long a time as you need.”

“Dad could… It could be years.” It had the feel of a confession. Laura opened her mouth but Robbie got there first;

“Then you’ll make the most of the time you have with your father, and we’ll be lucky to have you here that long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you're enjoying!  
> As ever, I'd love to hear your thoughts:)
> 
> LHA x  
> @LHA_again


	5. Chapter 5

Lizzie pressed the doorbell and smiled at the sound of muffled laughter coming from inside. Laura and Robbie’s home always had a warm atmosphere and while she had plenty of friends outside the job with Tony away, she’d particularly enjoyed coming here and sharing their company.

It was the Laura who appeared to let her in, apron on, glass in her hand.

“Lizzie!” she said, welcoming her with an open smile.

“I brought wine,” she said leaning in so that they could exchange a quick brush to the cheek.

“Wine bearing is my favourite sort of guest,” Laura said, stepping back to let her into the hallway. “Ignore them,” she said pointedly as they made their way through the sitting room and into the kitchen area. “I told them not to start building the bookcase at five o’clock but they chose not to take my advice.”

“Evenin’,” Robbie greeted her with a wave of his screwdriver.

“Maddox,” James said, looking up from the IKEA instruction sheet. 

“Sirs’,” she said with a mock salute. Laura held a glass up in her direction in a silent offer. “God yes.”

“Long week?” Laura asked as she poured generously.

“Not really actually,” Lizzie admitted, accepting the glass and watching her two bosses bicker over screws. 

She and Hathaway had gone for a pint yesterday at the ‘special occasion and serious conversation’ table at The Trout. It had been much less awkward than she’d been expecting, maybe because it had already been clear that something had changed earlier in the week. It was like someone had lifted a weight from his shoulders and she was slightly mortified that it had taken her so long to realise just how different he had become. He’d apologised for putting her in an awkward position, which had felt odd but he had then shared enough about the situation with his father that she understood. 

Lizzie wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t told her; her DI was intensely private at the best of times and money was complicated. She had suddenly wondered how often she’d mentioned the only real tangible advantage of Tony working away from home being how much he was earning. Wondered how often she’d put her foot in it or made things harder. She thought about those glasses of wine he’d bought her while he’d stuck with soft. It was all done now though.

The idea that he was going to become a lodger here had taken her a moment to process but hadn’t really been a surprise. It made sense financially and the offer was exactly the sort of thing she’d expect Robbie & Laura to make. Clearly once the decision was made, they weren’t going to bother hanging around and she’d offered to help move but he’d politely declined, one of his former bandmates had a van apparently. She’d laughed at this but clearly it had all gone to plan given the fact his sofa was now in their front room and there were boxes of books in the corner clearly destined for the new partially built shelves.

“Thank you,” Laura said quietly. “For looking out for him while we were away and for letting me know the state of play.” 

“I didn’t do much, really,” she said, trying to brush it off, uncomfortably aware of how true that was. 

“More than you think,” she countered. “Now, James has refused adamantly to tell me about the locum pathologist so I need you to tell me everything you know.”

“Well,” she began because there was plenty to tell but Robbie interrupted from where they were working on the sitting room floor;

“Eh, where’s our wine like?” 

“Once you’ve finished, you can have wine,” Laura replied without looking. “That goes for your co-conspirator too.”

“I allowed myself to be led astray by a charismatic elder,” James said in an overly contrite tone.

“Oi! Less of the elder!” Robbie protested.

“No deal James,” Laura said, suppressing a smile. “Finish and tidy up then you can have wine.”

It didn’t take long for the pair of them to get the bookcase upright and against the wall, and by the time they’d cleared up the packaging and tools Laura had filled several bowls of nibbles.

“So nice that you could join us,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

“Aye, aye very funny,” Robbie protested, pouring two glasses of wine.

“Is there anything I can do?” James offered, picking up his glass.

“Would you put the cannelloni in the oven?” she asked. 

“Sure,” he said, pulling a foil covered tray from the fridge.

“They’ll take a while,” Laura said, picking up the tray of nibbles. “So now that we can actually get into the room, shall we have a comfy seat?”

They talked and ate too much and it was a lovely evening. Robbie made salad to go with the pasta while they heckled him from the sofa. Dessert was a chocolate mousse that Laura readily admitted to having bought from M&S and James made proper coffee that was strong enough to take the edge off all the wine Lizzie had drunk. They heard tales of New Zealand adventures which she and James traded for CID gossip.

“Give over!” Robbie exclaimed. “How is that man still in a job?”

“Don’t ask me!” Lizzie said, holding her hands up. “Hooper is an enigma to us all.”

“There is nothing more frightful than ignorance in action,” James said with a lazy wave of a hand. He was draped over one end of the sofa like one of those boneless cats.

“Goethe?”

“Ten points to the semi-retired DI.”

“How do you think Thames Valley would cope without a Goethe spouting detective?” Laura asked Lizzie. “It must be fifty years since Morse joined the force. James we need to start legacy planning.”

“Lad’s young yet!” Robbie protested. “Besides, I’m not sure Morse ever quoted Goethe. Not romantic enough.”

“The sum of things to be known is inexhaustible, and however long we read, we shall never come to the end of our story-book," James proffered. 

“That’s got to be Housman,” Laura said with a laugh.

“Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus,” Lizzie said and then laughed as she could see her boss frown, presumably trying to translate the latin.

“Never tickle a sleeping dragon?” he asked.

“Harry Potter, lad,” Robbie said, clapping him on the thigh.

“Hmmm good advice,” James agreed.

“Unless the dragon is an academic,” Laura pointed out.

“I have given up being facetious to academics,” he said in a mock seriousness.

“Really?” Lizzie asked. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Insubordination!” 

“Wonder where she picked that trait up?” Robbie said lightly, leveraging himself out of the sofa. “More wine? Or does anyone fancy a whisky?”

“Whisky please,” James said standing up too. “I’m just going to…” he gestured to the doors out into the garden.

“I’ll stick to wine if that’s ok,” Lizzie said.

“Of course. Laura?” Robbie asked, leaning down and placing a kiss on the top of her head. He stayed there, for a moment, before he stood back up.

“Gin and tonic please,” she said looking up at him with a contented smile. 

It was only when the other woman spoke again that Lizzie realised she’d zoned out;

“You must miss Tony.” Lizzie glanced at the kitchen and saw that Robbie had followed James out into the garden with their whisky.

“Sometimes more than others,” she said honestly, looking back at Laura. “You’re happy together, it’s nice.”

“It took us a while to get there, but I think so,” she said with a fond smile. “It was James who brought Robbie back into the real world after Val and kept him there though. It’s why their relationship is different. Special.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Lizzie said. “The way Robbie looks at you... You make him happy, both of them happy.” The words were out before she’d thought through how they could be taken. “I mean… James is happy here, relaxed. With both of you. It’s nice to see him like that.” She was panicking now but Laura just smiled again.

“It is, isn’t it? He was so withdrawn before Robbie came back to Oxford.” Lizzie saw another shadow pass across her face. “They were each what the other needed, it’s almost enough to make you believe in a grand plan. Still, I hope that we’re all good for each other.”

“I am generally pro happiness and people bringing out the best in each other,” Lizzie said, raising her glass.

“That I can drink to,” Laura agreed. “Or at least I would, if someone had brought me my gin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and to everyone who has commented - it really does mean the world!  
> I hope you've enjoyed this chapter,
> 
> LHA x  
> @LHA_again


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning that in this chapter relationships develop and things become physical. I wouldn't consider it explicit but things do heat up.

In hindsight, James was surprised that there hadn’t been a conversation about where all of this was going before they reached this point. After that first Tuesday evening, it had all just seemed so natural that here they were without anything that felt like organisation. He’d spoken to Moody, explained his change of address and the circumstances behind it and survived the sympathetic response. Lizzie had been easier and once she knew, there was no one who mattered that didn’t. That weekend when she’d come round to dinner, he hadn’t realised until he’d already had far too much to drink this was the first time he’d properly relaxed in months. Longer maybe.

It should have been awkward, moving into someone else’s home where they were well established. He should have felt like a third wheel, like a guest who had invited themselves to stay. But despite the occasional wave of long familiar guilt, he couldn’t bring himself to feel that way often. Instead, he’d felt at home and as though Robbie and Laura had actually appreciated having him there. His belongings had been found homes, not stored. His favourite foods had been added to the shopping list, a card for the household account sorted out so that he could pick up milk and bread on the way back from work.

It worked. It felt right and they somehow all just seemed to find the patterns that worked between them. James cooked more often than he cleaned, but Robbie looked after the bathrooms. Laura would tolerate a reasonably organised stack of books and notes on the coffee but the dining table in the kitchen had to be cleared each night. Both of them would come with him to see his Dad occasionally, and while he didn’t recognise them from one visit to the next, it helped James to have someone to help carry the conversation. 

James learned to tell how Laura’s day had been by the way she entered the house; whether she wanted a glass of wine and someone to rant at, or space to process the horrors she had seen. Now that Robbie was mostly assigned to the other investigative teams, their schedules often didn’t align but it meant that each of them got time at home alone. On the rare occasions that they were all off together though, they made the most of it.

He hadn’t thought of how comfortable they were around each other, how little personal space had come to mean; a hand on a hip as someone squeezed passed in the kitchen, the three of them slumped on the couch so they could all yell at the latest atrocity of a police procedural. He’d hung out their laundry and they had done his but none of this had felt anything other than natural. And then he’d been stabbed by a suspect they’d been hunting for weeks.

James had woken up in the hospital with Robbie, looking like he hadn’t slept in days clinging to his hand.

“‘Lo there canny lad,” he said, his voice breaking.

“Wha…?” James asked, his memory coming back in unsteady waves. “Lizzy?” 

“She’s fine lad. Sent her home to get some sleep. She saved your life.”

“Metcalf?” he asked, swallowing carefully.

“Not yet, but Moody has half the force out looking.”

“James?” Laura was standing in the door, looking like she’d seen a ghost. And then she was next to the bed, hands cupping either side of his face and moving him gently so that she could kiss him full on the lips. “Don’t you ever, ever scare us like that again,” she whispered, her forehead pressed against his. And then she stood back and seemed to visibly pull herself back together.

“Here love,” Robbie said, pushing a seat in her direction. “You gave us a proper scare James.”

“Sorry,” he offered, not sure what to do with the emotions rolling through him. Exhaustion appeared quick on their heel though, and Robbie’s lips pressed against his temple with his soft injunction to rest, were the last things James remembered.

The memory should have been fuzzy, so many of those from the next few days were. But it wasn’t and nothing changed, not really. When he was released, Robbie helped him from his bed to the sofa and occasionally outside for a cigarette. Laura changed his dressings and fussed over his temperature and what he was eating. If their hands lingered longer on his shoulder or on his leg then it felt as natural as breathing. If they sat on either side of him on the couch as often as they sat beside each other then it never felt like something worthy of comment.

After his first day back at work, Lizzie dropped him off at home and twenty minutes later he fell asleep slumped against Robbie on the couch. He woke up to Laura sitting on the coffee table, hands wrapped around her favourite mug and watching them closely. Robbie was snoring gently into his hair, his hand draped over James’ stomach holding him close and he’d never felt safer in his life.

“Dinner’s ready,” she said, leaning in and kissing them both on their foreheads. Robbie shifted, waking and in moving, the press of his body against James made something unsaid plain. Neither of them pulled away though and James could see the flush in his own cheeks mirrored in Laura’s face. 

“Mmmm,” Robbie breathed into James’ neck. “You smell like you again.”

“Come on sleepy heads,” Laura called from the kitchen. “Before it gets cold.”

Now here they were, sitting at dinner eating and talking about what they needed from the garden centre. The three of them, as though there was nothing more natural in the world. It was a habit now that mugs of tea or coffee were taken outside after dinner so James could smoke, tonight though he had no taste for it.

“Alright lad?” Robbie said, as Laura curled up next to him on the swing bench. 

“More than alright,” he breathed, his hand drifting to rest on Laura’s own.

“Nothing you don’t want,” she said quietly, turning her palm up and twining their fingers. “If you don’t want this at all, or if you’d like the occasional hug or…”

“Whatever you want lad,” Robbie said equally quietly. “As much as you want for as long as you’ll have us. We’ll love you however makes you happy.”

“Everything,” James heard himself breathe. “I want…. All of you. Always.” A tidal wave of emotions and images that had been neatly sheathed in the feelings of _warmth_ and _right_ , seemed to flood him. 

Laura reached up with her free hand and stroked the side of his face, her eyes searching his. Whatever she was looking for she must have found and James shuddered as her thumb traced his lips. He glanced across to where Robbie was sitting, and the older man gave him a gentle nod. His mug of tea was forgotten on the arm of his chair as he watched them and James reached out his arm, desperate suddenly to have him closer.

As Robbie stood to join them, Laura leaned in and tilting her head, began to kiss the soft skin behind James’ ear. His head fell back in response and his legs flexed, setting the suspended bench rocking gently back and forth. Her fingers trailed across his cheek as she slid her hand down to rest inside the open neck of his shirt. And then there was Robbie. His hand cradling the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair as he leant in to capture James’ mouth.

James gasped into the kiss as Robbie’s knee pressed it’s way to between his legs, the swing of the bench changing as they found a new rhythm. His world shrunk to the back and forth; the tugging of his hair, the press of lips against his skin, the tongue insistently searching out his own and the denim clad thigh pressing against his trapped erection. 

Laura guided the hand she was still holding up to cup her breast and James followed her lead, brushing his thumb across the soft cotton of her top, the lace of her bra and the nipple beneath. He could feel her respond to his touch and as she arched into him and moaned in response and James’ pattern of push and swing faltered.

“Easy,” Laura said, pulling away from James’ neck her breathing laboured. She reached out and took hold of Robbie’s chin, tilting his face towards her so that she could kiss him thoroughly. James watched them breathing deeply and trying to calm his overwhelmed senses, trying to come back down to earth.

“Inside?” Robbie asked, stepping back and extending a hand to each of them. 

“Before we can never look at any of our neighbours in the face again,” Laura said with a chuckle. “Come on,” she encouraged him and James realised he was routed to the spot.

“Think we’ve overwhelmed the lad a little,” Robbie said gently, kissing him softly and ushering him up with an arm around his back. 

“I’m fine,” James managed once they were inside.

“Glad to hear it,” Laura said with a rye smile. “Really though, we have all the time in the word and you’ve only just recovered from a nasty…” James leant down and kissed Laura deeply, his hand cradling the nape of her neck.

“I’m better than fine,” he said, pulling back enough to look up at her from under his eyelashes. 

“Trouble,” Robbie growled. “That’s what you are lad.” He leant in to kiss Laura, before turning his attention back to James.

“But the best kind of trouble though,” Laura said, running a hand up James’ back.

“Come on pet,” Robbie said, turning to her. “Let’s take the lad upstairs to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do hope you're enjoying and please know that I appreciate all of your feedback greatly!  
> Thank you for reading  
> LHA x  
> @LHA_again


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